


put his heart in a bag (he wouldn't ask for it back)

by nonafng



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Boys Kissing, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Light Angst, M/M, Pining, Pining Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Requited Unrequited Love, Sap and Karl are only here briefly, Seemingly unrequited love, Swearing, except it’s 4+1 cause I’m lazy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-25 00:40:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30080805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonafng/pseuds/nonafng
Summary: Dream reaches out for his drink that George has made, brings it to his lips, takes a sip and immediately winces, burning his tongue on the hot liquid. He looks incriminatingly at George.Once his hands are free, Dream reaches over and nudges George's shoulder under the guise of payback."Are youtryingto kill me?!" His tongue burns. He sticks it out to cool it. George giggles, teeth on display. Smile so big his eyes disappear with it."Obviously I wasn't, it's clearly still hot." George readjusts himself, this time so he's a little closer. His hoodie gets pulled across his shoulders when he moves, exposing one of his collarbones.Yeah,Dream confirms.You are trying to kill me.(Or, 4 times George accidentally hurts Dream and the 1 time he makes up for it.)
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 302





	put his heart in a bag (he wouldn't ask for it back)

**Author's Note:**

> Make sure to check tags before reading!!

one

Dream tears his eyes away from the ending credits of whatever b-grade action movie George had forced him to endure for the past hour and a half, only to see said man, curled up on the couch beside him, dead to the world. _Typical._

He rolls his eyes and faces forwards once more. 

Dream raises his arms above his head in a stretch. The popping sound that accompanies the action promises only temporary satisfaction for his tired body. 

Speaking of tired, he glances back down at his sleeping friend. George's head is seemingly uncomfortably craned against the armrest of the couch, he's facing the tv and his knees are bent to accomodate Dream. Both of George's hands are, not surprisingly, tucked between his legs, even though he's practically swimming in a too-big, black hoodie.

(Dream recalls George telling him only a _thousand_ times that the older runs cold. Past chastising conversations play in his head, "It's ten-bloody degrees in here Dream what the hell is wrong with you!" and "If you turn off the heater again you die.")

Dream also recalls how unbelievably grumpy George gets after a nights sleep on their incredibly, uncomfortable hand-me-down couch. 

He untucks his leg from underneath himself, placing it alongside his other foot on the floor. He pauses for a few seconds once he's stood up to let the blood flow back to his leg which is currently suffering from the staticky effect of, well, halted blood flow. 

Walking over to the couch cushions they placed on their one solo lounge seat, Dream leans down and grabs both of the tacky yellow, lumpy pieces of fabric. He places one down in his previous spot, and uses the other to swat once at George's legs. 

"George."

Predictably, there is no reaction from the older, _see? Like he said, dead to the world._

Dream smacks him with the pillow a little harder, speaks a little louder.

"George c'mon, get up." 

This time a soft groan can be heard coming from the far end of the couch. Dream continues speaking, placing what he's now christened the 'George-resurrecting-cushion' down momentarily with it's twin.

"Movie's finished." He's picking up their dirty dishes from the small coffee table in the lounge, then making his way towards the kitchen to chuck them in the sink for future Dream to deal with. 

On his way to dispose of the dishes, Dream catches the beginning of George removing his hands from between his legs and bringing them out in front of him in a stretch that's suspiciously cat-like. He smiles, amused at the thought.

"Time s'it?" George's barely awake voice is practically inaudible but Dream still hears him.

He quickly glances at the clock on the counter while trying to gently juggle two cups, a mug, a large bowl and a plate into their tiny kitchen sink, praying for no casualties. Apart from the sound of ceramic settling not-so-gently against metal, there doesn't seem to be any. 

"It's 12:30." Dream hears George groan for the second time since waking up.

On his way back to the lounge, he sees George sit up, well the back of George, and watches his blurry figure move one ugly cushion from one side of the couch to the other, placing it in the corner he was just occupying.

"This sofa's terrible." Dream chuckles softly at the sound of George's sleep addled voice and the predictability of his whining. 

"I could have told you that." 

He's back in the lounge now, leaning down to collect his things (i.e his phone). When he refocuses on George, he sees the older wiping sleep from his closed eyes and brushing a hand through his soft hair. Something in Dream's chest pinches, he ignores it like the plague. _Nope._

Dream doesn't look away however, isn't even sure if that's a thing he's actually capable of right now. He's pathetic he _knows._ But he's tired and his inhibitions are no doubt lowered and George looks so warm and hey, _wait? That's one of Dream's hoodies right? The black one George is wearing? What the hell, how didn't he notice?_

George cuts off Dream's spiralling by resting back against the couch and opening his eyes, looking directly at Dream. 

The latter whips his head away and straightens up too quickly to avoid George's stare. Unfortunately in doing so he accidentally knocks his knee against the corner of their coffee table, causing a quick jolt of searing pain to spread throughout what feels like his entire nervous system, as well as shifting all the remaining objects on the table to move slightly to the left with a loud _bang._

 _"Ow, shit!"_ It's whispered so as to not disturb their neighbours, _god he's so thoughtful._ Dream doubles over immediately to hold his knee as if to comfort it, but eventually succumbs to being a little dramatic by slowly descending to the floor to soothe his probably bruising knee (and definitely bruising ego). 

Dream groans and hopes that the fact their lounge room light isn't on means that George can't see the flush that's quickly taken residence on his face. 

He gives himself a few moments to calm down before he's slowly looking up at George. The older is still in the same position he was when he accidentally forced Dream to the ground except now his hands are in his (read: Dream’s!!!) hoodie pocket and the expression on his face looks mildly amused. 

_Even when he's being condescending he's hot. Oh god._

Dream ducks his head again for a moment and closes his eyes. He reprimands himself quickly for his brains terrible timing, then looks back up at George.

There's a moment where they just blink at one another, Dream tries not to wax poetry about George's eyelashes in his head while the silence lingers. Finally George speaks up.

"You're weird." It's said fondly, however Dream doesn't have time to appreciate that before George is standing up and walking over to his bedroom, door gently shutting behind him with a soft _click._

Dream sighs heavily and lays down flat on his back. He stares at the dimly lit ceiling of their lounge room, waiting for his face to cool down. Lifting a hand up to his cheek, he isn't surprised when the touch is hot. 

He ends up placing both of his hands on his face, it cools his skin down momentarily, other than that, they stay there a little longer for no other reason other than he's embarrassed of himself. 

Eventually he gets up to go to his own room. The original sharp pain in his knee has turned into a dull ache, much like the residual embarrassment of being caught staring at his roommate and then nearly maiming himself as a result. He cringes remembering it.

He makes a deal with himself when he's settled in to bed: No more creepy staring at George, tonight's fiasco almost cost him a leg. 

(Dream breaks his deal the following morning when he wakes up to George in nothing but Dream's borrowed hoodie and some old basketball shorts, washing the dishes that Dream was too lazy to do the night before. _He's only human!)_

two

George has one of his eyes closed and the other squinting in concentration. Dream acknowledges the frown on his face before his eyes are dragged lower by the action of George bringing his bottom lip between his teeth. _Okay, look away now Dream._

There's a distinct _clang_ sound of rubber hitting metal that makes Dream jump and turn his attention (thankfully) back to the carnival game at hand. 

He tries not to acknowledge the path his brain was unwillingly about to pull him down before he was interrupted, instead he attempts to focus on analysing what just happened. 

It's obvious George took his final shot, however the 3 remaining metal duck's and the low grumbling coming from said man, suggests that he had missed. Thus, ending his turn without even winning the smallest prize. 

Dream's grinning from ear to ear while George makes his way over. The latter rolls his eyes, starts talking barely within earshot of Dream. 

"Whatever, these games are all rigged anyway, everyone knows that." It looks like he's pouting, _oh my god._

Something in Dream's chest squeezes, he laughs to mask the feeling (albeit it comes out as more of a nervous laugh than a self-assured one.)

He clears his throat, ready to challenge George.

"Oh _c'mon,_ they might be rigged but it's still possible to win." He makes sure to sound as cocky as possible, to really get on his nerves. George raises an eyebrow, Dream knows he's won.

"Okay fine, I'd like to see _you_ do better." 

Dream's determined now. The almost imperceptible pout on George's face from before, plus the fact that he sounded genuinely upset that he didn't win the dumb blue rabbit plush he jokingly said he wanted earlier on, ignites a fire inside of him to show George what he's made of. 

Well _that..._ and he's competitive. 

"Alright, I will." He wastes no time pulling out his wallet and walking over to the Carny, calling back to George over his shoulder,

"Watch and learn Georgie!" 

Dream's smiling like an idiot. He doesn't have to turn around to know George is rolling his eyes at him again, it makes his smile even wider and his determination stronger.

—

The Carny gives Dream a dirty look the whole time he's choosing his prize. They were staring daggers at him when he reiterated that _yes, he knows he can choose one of the higher winning prizes but he wants the dumb blue rabbit please and thank you._

After claiming his trophy (said dumb blue rabbit) he turns to George with his arms spread wide, prize in one hand, teeth on show in a grin and eyes squinting as a result so much so that they're practically closed, waiting for the older to acknowledge his noble win. 

As expected, George does not give into Dream's grand fantasy of him falling into his arms and clutching him for dear life, praises falling from his mouth easily. 

"You're so annoying." George has his arms crossed over his chest and to anyone else he'd probably look closed off, unapproachable. Dream knows differently though. 

He looks down at George's face pointedly once he's stood in front of him, arms still spread, implying the want of a victory hug that he knows George will not do him the honour of giving.

He can't help but smile though.

George's eyes keep flickering from Dream's own to Dream's smug smile, back and forth with a frown etched on to his face, like he can't decide which of the younger's facial features are irritating him more. 

(If Dream's heartbeat picks up pace from George analysing his face up this close then so be it.)

Finally George groans and snatches the dumb blue rabbit from Dream's outstretched palm, however, a small smile graces his lips before he's able to hide it from Dream. 

George starts walking in the opposite direction of the carnival games, dumb blue rabbit trapped to his side in a one-armed grip. 

Dream lets his (still rapidly beating) heart warm at the silly interaction before jogging to fall back in step with George. 

Screw his grand fantasy, this is much better anyway.

—

Dream and George meet up with Sapnap and Karl soon after. The former pestering George about his dumb blue rabbit. George takes it upon himself to lie and say he was the one to win it.

"I won it actually." Sapnap and Karl nod along in agreement to Dream's statement, the older of the two mumbling the repeated words 'makes sense, makes sense'.

George doesn't give up on his blatant lie however. The ensuing bickering from George and Sapnap is almost headache inducing with how they talk over each other. George insisting he's 'just _that_ skilled' and Sapnap responding in his usual Sapnap manor with lighthearted insults and name calling. 

Karl and Dream share multiple looks with each other while they wait for dumb and dumber to ultimately wear themselves out. Dream can't help but be fond of them.

Eventually everyone calms down, a unanimous decision is made to hunt down a fun looking carnival ride, which brings them to the present.

George's shoulder is brushing against Dream's arm as they're waiting in line. He's long since tuned out whatever Sapnap and Karl are animatedly chatting about behind them, too focussed on the point where him and George connect. 

He's way too aware off stuff like that. There's times when him and George are in a room, crowded or not, where the space between them becomes a tangible thing, like it's actually visible. 

Like if he really wanted to, he could grab what ever invisible thing is tying them together and tug on it until there's no space left. 

When that happens it feels like his body aches for him to close the gap. He eventually ends up gravitating closer to George anyway, his subconscious gets him there one way or another. 

(Maybe that's considered tugging on it after all). 

When they're actually touching, the awareness doubles however. 

It's a rare occurrence for them to consciously decide to touch one another, Dream does it accidentally more often than not. He's aware that George isn't one for physical affection so he does his best to respect that.

But in certain scenarios, it's inevitable. 

Like now, in line for a ride packed in like sardines. George's shoulder bumps his arm for a brief second and _whoops,_ surprise! Suddenly all of Dream's attention is narrowed to that spot where they touched. _It's ridiculous._

Dream looks up towards the carnival ride they're in line for at an attempt to not be a pining loser and distract himself. His eyes widen slightly when he sees just how much spinning and turning is actually involved. 

His stomach flips but he's not scared, it's more excitement than anything else. (Plus the adrenaline from the constant stop/start shoulder bumps George is subconsciously subjecting him too, _god.)_

He looks down at the older, who's facing forward and looking uncharacteristically hesitant. 

He keeps lifting his arm up to fiddle with his fringe, running a hand through the front in small intervals. That, plus the fact that he hasn't had a break from chewing on his lip since Dream looked over gives away that he's definitely feeling some sort of apprehension. 

He's never known George to back down from anything, it's odd seeing him this wary. The concern for his friend takes over. 

Dream taps on George's forearm to grab his attention, the older whips his head to the left to face him.

"Are you sure you're not too short for this ride?" _Smooth, Dream._

He aimed for lighthearted, trying to make George loosen up a little, but landed on a _tiny_ bit arrogant. 

George blinks dumbly at him for a moment, then he's shaking his head and scoffing, exasperation showing. Facing forward once more he responds,

"Don't be an idiot." Dream relaxes and smiles at the way the other delivers the insult, like he doesn't mean it _at all._

He looks forward for a few seconds and takes note of the ride starting to slow down. He wants to make sure George isn't pushing himself though, so he leans down slightly, grabs ahold of the barrier that's beside George to lean on. 

He's hoping to give the both of them enough privacy that they'll be able to keep this next question just between them. He doesn't want to embarrass George. Not that George is easily embarrassed. 

(Dream was once witness to Sapnap unethically acquiring texts between George and a girl he was interested in at the time. Lets just say the messages Sapnap had read were never meant to be seen or heard by anyone but the two parties initially attending. George didn't bat an eye, just said he stood by the greasy flirting and let Dream and Sapnap have their fun.) 

Still, Dream wants to make sure.

"Really though, are you sure you want to go on this one?" He's still slightly leant over, arm practically around George just not touching. This way, he can have the option to whisper back if he wants to. 

George turns to face Dream once more, this time not having to look up to meet the younger's eyes. Dream didn't realise how close this would make them, his eyes trip over George's features for a moment then land for a little too long on the curve of his lips. 

_Don'tthinkaboutkissinghimdon'tthinkaboutkiss-_

He closes his eyes briefly, quickly wets his lips then 'attempts' to clear his throat inconspicuously. 

When he opens them again he takes note of the curious gaze George throws his way. His eyes are half lidded. Dream interprets that as scrutiny, he pulls back a little, trying to give George as much room as possible while maintaining their pseudo privacy.

The older starts flitting his eyes between Dream's features, not sticking to any one place. Soon after he's looking down at his feet and opening his mouth to speak,

"I'll be fine, Dream." His voice is low but fairly confident when he replies, still not making eye contact with the younger but trying to give Dream a reassuring smile anyway.

Dream wobbles a little on his feet when George places a hand against his shoulder to get him to stand up straight, consequently making Dream let go of the barrier beside him and move so he's no longer hovering over the other. 

It's a little embarrassing and makes his face burn. Mainly because Dream was thinking about what it would be like to kiss him, and George pushing him away feels like faux rejection.

—

George and Dream are guided to sit next to each other, they take two empty seats, filling up a row. Dream briefly takes notice of Sapnap and Karl being escorted elsewhere to fill other empty seats. He momentarily prays for whoever's ears that Karl is sat next to.

His attention is brought back to George and himself when all of a sudden the Carny that lead them to their seats briefly warns them that the restraints are going to come down.

Dream takes a quick glance at George before his vision is obscured by the bulky restraints coming down to secure them. He still looks a little beyond nervous so once all the safety's are checked and the people inspecting the seats clear the area, he turns to George again and speaks up.

"Having fun?" Dream himself is still a little bothered by his prior train of thought but he's actually remained fairly excited for the ride, he can feel his heart beating erratically against his chest. 

George doesn't look at Dream when he says,

"I think I'm gonna throw up." _God,_ he sounds so  
miserable. Despite his concern Dream still chuckles at his friend's dramatics. _You said you were fine a minute ago._

Dream doesn't say that to George though, knowing that stating the obvious is the last thing the older wants to hear right now. 

George doesn't reprimand Dream for laughing at him like he usually would either, he's clearly anxious. 

Instead, when the ride comes to life and begins to raise them off of the ground below, Dream sees George flail his hand around in his peripheral before it captures Dream's own. Oh. 

_Oh._

Dream's frozen as he watches George readjust their hands so that they're fingers are intertwined, palm against palm. 

It's almost like the touch has overloaded Dream. He's so used to taking whatever he can get from George that the otherwise platonic act of holding hands has fried his brain. 

Dream feels his heart pick up for reasons unrelated to the carnival ride they're currently on. 

George is gripping his hand so hard that the older's knuckles are bone white where they lay adjacent from his. Dream winces, he doesn't ask George to let go or loosen his hold though. Doesn't think he's capable. George's hand is cold, no surprise there.

Dream looks from their connected hands up to George's face, which is currently scrunched in a poor attempt at shutting out the current situation, the current situation which is about to start getting a whole lot dizzier. 

He pulls himself together and is able to give George's hand what he hopes is a reassuring squeeze right before they start spinning and turning.

Dream feels like he's honest to god flying and it's not because of the spinning death trap they're currently on. 

He's unable to lose focus on the growing warmth wrapped around his left hand (the only thing coming close to stealing his attention is George, making obnoxious vomiting sounds at every jolt.) 

He can't seem to turn his thoughts away from George who sought out Dream for comfort in that moment right before the ride started. 

Even when they're getting tossed back and fourth and he's laughing from all the adrenaline and George is squealing and crushing his hand hard enough to bruise, Dream thinks he wouldn't change it for the world. 

When they're back on solid ground and no longer restrained, Dream doesn't let go of George's hand and neither does George, though Dream suspects thats because he's far too preoccupied to stop it.

"I'm seriously going to throw up." He's hunched slightly over but unable to continue his complaints before they're both ushered off of the rides platform, allowing others to fill their spaces. 

Dream's heart is going crazy and he silently revels in George's continued touch while waiting for the other to pick up on what he has done, that unfortunately comes in the form of Karl and Sapnap catching up with them and immediately honing in on their point of contact. 

George pulls away as soon as he's made aware of his death grip on the younger, trying to explain himself to Sapnap and Karl. 

Dream chuckles as he half-heartedly listens in, silently mourning the warmth George's hand provided. 

At least now he can rub the cramps from his hand. 

(Later on, Sapnap pulls him to the side and tells him how sickening it is watching him pine from afar. Dream can't even disagree.)

three

There's a small knock on his door and then it's opening. George enters his room, closing the door behind himself quietly.

He's got two mugs with him, one that has hot chocolate in it, identified by the steam bellowing out from the top, and the other that no doubt has lemonade. 

"Here." George is handing Dream the mug with the hot chocolate. He'd called out to Dream from the kitchen only a few minutes prior to ask if he'd like anything while he was in there.

Dream had been holed up in his room for hours now, trying to get his assignment done last minute. He started it when the sun was still in the sky, it's now pitch black. He's a little exhausted.

He accepts the drink with a small 'thank you', grateful for the warmth it provides for his cold fingers. Their heater had stopped working a week ago and they have yet to get it fixed.

To combat this, he hopped in bed and pulled up the covers while he worked, but there was nothing he could do for his cold fingers. They had to be sacrificed so he could type up his assignment. 

He feels the bed dip beside him. Looking over, he watches as George makes himself comfortable. This time he doesn't ignore the way his heart swells in his chest when he looks at George, who's crossing his legs and placing his mug on the bedside table beside him. 

George always looks so soft. He's wearing that stupid black hoodie again that Dream can no longer call his own. George will wear it pretty much any time they're home and it's drives Dream insane. 

He hates that he can't do anything about the want it creates at the tips of his fingers, the need to reach out and _touch._ That's an impulse he tries desperately to ignore. 

Dream places his drink to the side so he can busy himself with typing instead, hoping that will subdue his need to ruin a perfectly good friendship. 

He can see George typing on his phone in his peripheral. At one point, Dream sneaks a glance over at him when he reaches to take a sip from his drink. 

The hoodie (that was his, now George's) rides up a fraction above George's waist. Dream flings his head back so fast to face his laptop that he's afraid he gave himself more whiplash than the carnival did last month. 

( _God,_ the carnival. His heart picks up just thinking about it. The easy back and forth, the dumb blue rabbit they won that George now keeps to one corner of his bed, the way George took Dream's hand thoughtlessly, as if Dream himself were a comfort for George.)

He hopes that the whirring of the internal fan and the harsh white light of his laptop screen makes the flush on his face and his erratic-beating heart imperceptible.

Dream reaches out for his drink finally, mainly as a distraction. Brings it to his lips, takes a sip and immediately winces, burning his tongue on the hot liquid.

He looks incriminatingly at George while placing the mug back down. The older only chuckling in return.

Once his hands are free, Dream reaches over and nudges George's shoulder under the guise of payback. He can feel the ghost of the touch under his palm when he pulls back. 

"Are you _trying_ to kill me?!" His tongue burns. He sticks it out to cool it, hanging it out of his mouth like his some kind of dog, _god._

George giggles, teeth on display. Smile so big his eyes disappear with it. Dream's not actually upset but he has a pretty good feeling that if he was, one glance at the grin on George's face would have made his irritability fade away.

"Obviously I wasn't, it's clearly still hot." George readjusts himself, this time so he's a little closer and able to see what Dream is working on. His elbow knocks with Dream's, stays there. 

Dream thinks about the connection, warm and as present as ever. 

George's hoodie gets pulled across his shoulders when he moves, exposing one of his collarbones. Dream can't stop staring, gave up on that a long time ago. He wants to reach out so bad. Run his hand down George's neck, across his shoulder, down his chest.

George drives him _insane._

He's only pulled out from his 'George tunnel vision' when he hears said man speak up and ask him what he's working on. 

_Yeah,_ Dream confirms. _You are trying to kill me._

four

"You're wearing actual clothes, what's the occasion?" Dream is leant against their shared bathroom doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, one leg crossed in front of the other.

George is staring into their shitty mirror that may as well be one of those blurry metal public toilet ones it's _that_ terrible, adjusting a singular stubborn strand of hair in front of his forehead that just won't stay in place. _He looks good._

"You look good." He clears his throat after that admittance, not entirely comfortable with how his mouth decided to let that one slip. 

George catches Dream's eye through the mirror, Dream thinks he sees George's eyebrows pull down, like he's analysing him but he can't be sure. Either way Dream pushes off of the doorframe just in case George finds whatever answer he may or may not have been looking for.

George doesn't comment on Dream's slip up, he chooses to answer Dream's question instead. Dream hangs his head to mask the shame that's burnt it's way on to his face.

"I've got a date." Dream's head whips up. _What?_

"What?" 

George spares him another glance in the mirror, a quick flicker from his face down to his fluffy-sock covered feet, then back up again, before turning back to mess with his appearance. 

"I've got a date." He reiterates. Dream can't speak, George continues. 

"You know those things you go on when you meet someone?" It's obviously rhetorical, George is chuckling at Dream's silence. He probably assumes Dream's just being a dick, acting shocked like he thinks George can't pull anyone he wants just by batting his pretty eyelashes.

Dream's not an idiot, despite George's insistence that he is. He knows George can have anyone he wants. 

Which is why he feels like his heart is currently giving up on him. 

"Dream?"

It's not like he even has a right to be that upset. He's had plenty of time to tell George how he feels. It's his own fault for being so terrified. 

Every single time he lets himself entertain the idea of a confession, he talks himself out of it. Supplies himself with moments of when George sidelined his affection, or looked uncomfortable with something that he said that was maybe a little too genuine. 

Of course George has had his moments. Moments when he's initiated a touch, or said something flirty that would leave Dream's head simultaneously empty _and_ full for days. But he never meant any of it. To George, Dream is just a friend. 

_”Dream?"_

Dream focuses back on George, he's leaning back against their bathroom counter, looking vaguely concerned with his hands in his jacket pockets and _so damn good._ His chest _aches._

"Huh?" _Jesus,_ maybe he is an idiot. 

"Are you okay?" He gives him an emphatic look and moves his arms a little, hands still in his pockets, gesturing to Dream like the question is obvious. 

"Oh. Oh, yeah I- I'm good." _God,_ it doesn't even sound believable to his own ears. He's digging himself a hole, 6 foot down.

George gives him that once over that he so often does when Dream is at his most pathetic, the one that flicks across his entire face. He's learned to associate it with George trying to work out why he's being an absolute moron. He hopes George never finds out why.

Dream decides to fix the final figurative nail in his own coffin.

"Have fun on your date." He drops his head immediately, clears his throat. The words had felt like nails on their way out, tasted like blood when his tongue wrapped around them. 

It feels like something has his heart in a vice grip, squeezing until it bleeds out, sticky on the floor. He needs to get out of here before George notices how much this is actually affecting him. 

George beats him to it though.

Dream hears the older man sigh. He lifts his head and watches as George runs a hand through his fringe, pulling on the ends slightly. 

_It's getting long, George hates it long._

He gives Dream one more glance before he's shaking his head, almost like he's disappointed. Dream's heart lays heavy in his chest. 

George pushes himself off of the counter, walks past Dream. He's able to smell the cologne George is wearing as he does. 

The knowledge that George cares about this date enough to fuss over his appearance to this extent increases the ache in Dream's chest tenfold. 

_Fuck._

Dream's sight follows George's retreating form as he heads towards the front door, grabbing his things from the small desk they keep by the coat rack. 

He's openly staring at George, the way he often does now. Too lovesick to even care about getting caught. He takes note of George's eyebrows pinched into a frown and the way he haphazardly shoves his things into his pockets. How he pulls on his shoes a little too aggressively. 

Dream doesn't know why suddenly George is in a sour mood. _His_ heart isn't the one that's being crushed right now. 

George flicks his eyes up to Dream while pulling on his other shoe, drops his gaze just as quickly. He trips a little once his shoe is on, hand slipping after he's pulled the back of it over his foot.

Dream hears him whisper 'shit' and then sees him lean heavily on the desk by their front door. 

He wants to ask what's wrong but can't seem to get his tongue to form around the words.

"You know, I _seriously_ don't understand you sometimes." He doesn't even face him when he says it, but Dream feels the impact all the same as if he were looking him directly in the eyes. 

George is upset with _him._ And he has no idea why. 

Before he can even try to ask, George is pulling their front door open and closing it behind him. The _click_ of it shutting seems to echo throughout their apartment. 

George leaves Dream alone with his thoughts, a bloody heart and a festering guilt, steadily encompassing him.

\+ one 

It's easy to tell when George arrives home from his date. There's a little bell on his keychain that jingles any time his apartment key is in the door.

Dream waits at his desk until George is fully settled inside their apartment before coming out of his room to confront him.

His door is slightly ajar. Dream taps on the surface, waiting patiently for George to allow him in. 

Not even a moment later he hears George mumble a quiet 'come in'. He pushes the door open the rest of the way, closing it behind himself.

George is sitting on the end of his bed, bent over untying his shoelaces. Dream's heart momentarily skips when his eyes glance over at George's dumb blue rabbit in its designated spot on his bed.

He tears his eyes away from the rabbit to watch George as he struggles with the knot on one of his shoes, groaning out of frustration.

Dream winces when George tosses his shoes one after the other to the side, hitting his closet with a _thud._ He's _clearly_ still upset, whether it's because of something that happened on his date or residual feelings left over from before he left, Dream doesn't know. (He's still not even 100% certain he knows why George was upset with him in the first place). 

Dream almost doesn't want to try and speak to him at all, a little afraid of what a hot tempered George might say to him. 

George stands up and walks over to his closet to presumably grab a change of clothes. Dream closes his eyes for a moment, tries to talk himself up, eventually bites the bullet and opens his mouth to speak,

"Are you okay? How was your date?" He cringes immediately, knows it's a dumb question but needs to ask anyway.

George is grabbing (read: snatching) a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie from the drawers in his closet. He gives Dream a warranted dirty look, shakes his head and starts to unbuckle his belt, getting changed where he stands in front of his closet. 

"What do you think?" George practically hisses. 

Dream's heart is skipping beats left and right, the last thing he wants to do is upset George more, he leans back against George's door, tries to let the cool wood ground him. 

The _swoosh_ sound of George pulling his belt out of the loops of his jeans echos throughout the otherwise silent bedroom.

It's when George starts on the button of his jeans that Dream remembers to turn his head to the side to give some semblance of privacy to George.

He refuses to acknowledge George's blurry half-naked figure while he's getting changed in his peripheral. Dream taps on his own thigh as a distraction.

Once he notices George tug his black hoodie over his head out of the corner of his eye, he clears his throat, stops his tapping and focuses back on the other, who's sitting back down on the end of his bed with one leg trapped beneath himself.

George watches him for a moment, analytic gaze doing what it does best, making Dream feel like he's on an examination table being poked and prodded at. 

Dream puts his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants, plays with the change that's been there for who knows how long. 

"You look like a kicked puppy." George's voice is monotonous. 

Dream scoffs before saying.

"I kind of feel like one." 

He watches George's facial expressions change, from blasé to.. regretful? Dream doesn't know, George is kind of notoriously hard to read when he doesn't want to be read. Still, Dream feels like he’s better at the task of reading him than most. 

"Dream I-"

"George-" 

Dream stops himself when he hears George speak at the same time, 

"You go first." It's George, he places his hands behind himself on the bed and leans back, resting on them. 

He's looking straight at Dream, attention solely on him. George has given him the stage, and he's terrified of what he might confess with the entire worlds eyes on him. 

Dream takes a breath, closes his eyes, steadies his hands by trapping them behind himself against the door. 

He opens his eyes and looks at George. He'll start off with an apology.

"I'm sorry." 

It's sincere.

He's not sure why George is upset but he's betting it has something to do with Dream's obvious feelings. 

Whether George has worked it out (which wouldn't be hard) or George is just in general uncomfortable with how Dream's been acting. It's got to have something to do with Dream and his silly crush.

So it's sincere.

Dream watches George's reaction. He watches as the others eyes soften, impossibly so. Watches as he sits up straight and looks down as he places his hands in his lap, fiddling with his own fingers. 

Dream doesn't understand the reaction, George speaks up.

"You have nothing to apologise for." 

George's voice is low and soft and so unlike how Dream thought he would sound. He's confused but he pushes on.

"I do though, you're upset with me, I-"

He stops talking when he notices George shaking his head lightly and running a hand through his hair. 

George flits his eyes momentarily to Dream's, doesn't seem to be able to hold the eye contact. Holds his own arm instead in some sort of faux hug. 

This isn't like George. Dream isn't used to seeing him this way. The last time he saw him like this was when he was nervous to hop on that ride at the carnival. _Is that it? Is George Nervous? Why?_

"I wasn't upset with you." He breathes out. 

Dream breathes in. 

"I was - I _am,_ upset with myself." Dream doesn't have time to ask George what he means by that before he’s speaking again.

"I mean," George pauses to inhale, it rattles on its way in. "You had some part in it because you confuse the hell out of me, _all of the time,_ but it's _me_ I'm upset with." 

Dream's fingers are numb, he's not sure he can blame it on their broken heater. He somehow manages to open his mouth to speak, albeit quietly.

"Why?" 

George's eyes flick up to his, holding the contact this time. Dream feels shaky, he's glad George's door is behind him for support. 

Dream watches as something gives out in George's expression, like he's accepting something he'd otherwise rather not. 

"My date," Dream's stomach flips, "It didn't go terribly, I just," George sighs.

"There were moments where we would slip into silences that were bordering on awkward, and that's normal but I kept thinking that," George stops, wets his lips, starts again,

"That if I were there with _you,_ there wouldn't be any awkward silences."

Dream's ears are ringing. 

"And I was upset because I was meant to be going on this date with this really good looking guy, and all I could think about was _you_ and how I wished that you did something about it other than telling me to ‘have fun’."

"I know that's fucked up, _I know._ But you give me so many mixed signals. One second I'm sure you want me, you're so sweet to me and I convince myself you like me, but then you're backing off, looking uncomfortable. And you're sweet to everyone so suddenly I'm not special and I'm just reading into things." 

"So, I accepted that you don't feel the same and put myself out there," he groans and rubs a hand over his face. 

"And it was the worst, not bad but I was the worst. I couldn't stop thinking about you and the way you were looking at me in the bathroom before I left and he was trying to get me to talk about myself but I wouldn't shut up about you." George ducks his head.

"It was so obvious." He trails off, seemingly finished, breathing slightly heavy with his confession. 

_His confession. That was a confession right?_

_Holy shit._

Dream is frozen. 

The ringing in his ears only got louder as George continued. He's still not entirely certain he heard George correctly, the blood rushing in his ears is strong enough to warble words. But even so..

_He said he was thinking about me? That he couldn't stop thinking about me?_

Dream is frozen and his heart is beating an escape against his rib cage but he needs to get his mouth to work. 

_He said he wouldn't shut up about me._

Dream leans away from the door he's been using to ground himself up until now, not completely though. His shaky hands are still left behind, numb fingertips just grazing the wood. 

George is still facing down, staring at his fingers that are _trembling._ Dream's chest aches at the sight. He wants to reach out and reassure him. 

_He thinks I don't feel the same._

Dream _needs_ to reassure him. Wants to pull on that thing that ties them together. 

He opens his mouth, _pulls._

"You're wrong." 

His voice is barely above a whisper, the words feel rough in his throat. 

George lifts his head up, keeping Dream's gaze. Dream watches as a crease appears in between George's eyebrows, takes note of the glassiness in his eyes. Tries and fails not to feel guilty. 

He clears his throat, taps his fingers that are slowly regaining feeling against the door behind himself, clarifies.

"You're wrong, about me not feeling the same." It's hard to keep eye contact and his voice steady at the same time. 

"I do feel the same." 

It's hard to interpret the expressions that roll across George's face after he confesses. 

Dream can't look away as the others eyelashes flutter, as if they've grown heavy momentarily. He supposes any normal person would coin George's reaction as disbelief.

Dream doesn't want to jump the gun, doesn't ever want to overanalyse George to the point of reading him wrong ever again. His hands that were restlessly in his lap still their fidgeting, no longer picking at fingernails. Dream wants to reach out and hold them, wants to reach out and hold George. He stays put.

"You do like me?" George's voice rivals Dream's own whisper earlier on. He sounds so small, but so hopeful. Dream's nodding before he's even able to verbally confirm.

"I do." 

Dream watches as his confirmation settles in. He watches as George looks Dream up and down, watches as George's eyes do that oh so familiar dance across Dream's features. He used to relate it to scrutiny or some sort of dissection, but he understands now that the look doesn't hold negative connotations. Only simple curiosity.

He used to pride himself in being able to read George with ease, _how did he ever read him so wrong?_

George catches his bottom lip between his teeth, looks away from Dream for a moment, then back, with a newfound determination ruling his features. 

He pulls himself up from his seat on the edge of his mattress, fixes his hoodie so that it sits more comfortable. Dream can do nothing but stare at George's socked feet as he makes his way across the room towards him.

The older stops short of a foot in front of him, Dream is still looking at the floor, at the space between them. 

His nerves only increased as George got closer, everything is out in front of them now, everything is out in the open. 

George lifts a hand, it hovers between them for a moment. Dream's eyes are glued to the tips of George's fingertips, to the lines that map out his palm. They're close enough that Dream is able to see the almost imperceptible tremble that still clings to George's fingers. 

Finally, George moves. He places the hand against Dream's sternum. Dream tracks the movement.

Despite the broken heater, and the knowledge that George runs cold, it's still shocking when his hand is cool against Dream's chest. Even through the shirt Dream is wearing, he feels George unknowingly soothe his overheated skin. 

His heart, searching for the cool reprieve that George provides rattles like a bird stuck in its cage. 

George pushes gently, Dream feels the wood of the door behind him catch him once more. His hands are still trapped behind himself, buzzing to reach for George. 

Dream is done for.

"Your heart is beating really fast." George whispers, he sounds bewildered. _God._

Dream turns his head, tilts it up slightly to be able to look at George directly. The older is already watching him unsurprisingly, his pretty brown eyes flicking between both of Dream's. 

_Yeah, he's done for._

His hands are shaky behind himself and his heart is a lost cause at this point. He hopes George is merciful. This is what he’s wanted though, George, touching him like this, it's more than he ever thought he'd receive from the other. 

Still. It's _a lot._

He leans his head back against the door and closes his eyes, hair falling in front of his face. The loss of his sight only makes Dream zone in on George's hand on his chest even more.

"Dream?"

He shakes his head.

 _"Dream."_ Softer this time, the sound flipping his stomach and making him feel physically sick. 

"Please look at me." He can't, he wants to but he can't. 

He's made aware of George's other hand, equally as cool, when it reaches behind Dream to grasp one of his own. He keeps his eyes closed as George brings his own hand in front of them, placing it against his own chest. 

It's not hard to feel George's twin beating heart, just as erratic as his own. He squeezes his eyes tight.

 _"See?"_ George's voice is shaky. Dream's hit with overwhelming emotion for the man in front of him.

It's all so surreal. George saying those things, spilling his guts before Dream even had the time to think about doing the same. Dream following suit. George reaching out to him willingly, wanting Dream's touch as much as Dream wanted his. It sounds like some silly fantasy Dream let himself have in the confines of his own room. 

George's hand that's holding his own is tracing a repeated path across his wrist, waiting patiently. Goosebumps rise in the wake of George's touch. 

They stand there quietly for a short moment, the only sound being the breath shared between them. George sacrifices the hand on Dream's chest to bring it up higher, traces cool fingers across exposed skin. Rests it finally where his shoulder meets his neck. 

George _likes_ him, he knows that now. His heart soaks it up, placating it, makes it quiet in a way it's never been before. It's still beating fast, no way for it not to be with the way George is touching him, but it's no longer bleeding out. 

He open his eyes and reaches out with his other hand, frees it from its confines to do what he's been holding it back from this whole time. 

George's hoodie, the one that was once his but is now the formers is soft to touch. George brings his eyes back up to Dream's as the younger wraps a hand around his waist. He ignores the way his own hand trembles, pulls George in. 

The hands that were between them fall to make space for George to rest flush against Dream. George takes it upon himself to wrap his other hand around Dream's waist, sliding a hand just under Dream's shirt. 

_Shit._

George is trying to kill him. 

_Dream will gladly let him._

_”George-"_

He stops short, George is looking at his mouth. He's vaguely aware of George's hand on his shoulder making its way higher, feels the feather light touch of cold fingertips graze his heated skin. Can only assume George has left more goosebumps behind.

He hears ringing again, realises now that the blood rushing in his ears is a sign of anticipation. 

George brings his hand in front of Dream momentarily to brush a stray piece of hair behind his ear. The touch is so soft, all of George's touches are so soft, Dream isn't so sure he won't melt from how tender George is being. 

He watches George as his eyes flicker over his face. An action so familiar it's now soothing to be under his analytical gaze. 

George's hand rests partway on Dream's jaw, thumb brushing a slow pattern there, catching on Dream stubble every other stroke. His eyes are lidded, he doesn't think he's ever seen George so enraptured. He feels weird thinking that he's the cause of it. 

He can feel George's heart beating against his own, they both want this, what did George say before? 

_It's obvious._

Before he can overthink, Dream moves his free hand to the back of George's neck, pulls him in to a kiss.

George makes a soft noise of surprise when their lips meet. Dream feels the grip George has on him tighten slightly, imagines his grip on George does the same. 

The kiss is soft. It's so soft. He's scared to make it anything but. Luckily George takes the lead. 

He presses a little harder up against Dream, lightly pushes his fingers into the back of Dream's neck, seemingly wanting more, like he's desperate with it. 

It's overwhelming in the best way possible. Dream feels like he can't breathe. 

He’s hyper aware of all the places they’re touching, George’s lips on his own, George’s hand on his jaw, his neck, George’s hand above the waistband of his sweats. George’s hips flush with his own, his own hand holding George’s waist over his hoodie, the fingers of his other hand running through George’s hair. 

Every point of contact has him reeling, his fingers ache, wanting more. His skin sparks wherever George touches. 

It isn't long before he has to pull away, not taking in enough air from holding his breath. George sinks down a little, now flat on his feet instead of up on his toes. 

Dream's chest is heaving even though their kiss was as chaste as they come. His eyes are closed, trying to give himself time to process what just happened. George however, doesn't seem to want to give Dream time to recoup at all.

He's pulled down this time, his neck bent at an angle that usually isn't comfortable. George's lips are wet when they meet his. It makes Dream's own lips tingle. Before he's even really able to kiss back, George is coaxing Dream to open his mouth, tongue searching, lips warm. 

The open mouthed kisses they share from then on drive him crazy. George takes every chance he gets to nip at Dream's lips. When their tongues meet, Dream squeezes a little too hard at George's side, vaguely hopes somewhere in the back of his mind that he’s not hurting George with how hard he’s holding on.

Every now and then George sighs into their kiss, hot breath against his own mouth. Dream pushes harder whenever that happens, just to hear it again. 

George pushes himself impossibly closer, his hand on Dream’s jaw, guiding. His own hand at the back of George’s neck. 

Despite the way George sets his skin on fire and despite the way they seem to be escalating, the elder is somehow able to maintain a balance that keeps the kisses as tame as they possibly can be whilst still being heated. 

When they pull apart part this time, their lips make an audible _click_ sound that has Dream's face reddening embarrassingly fast. 

They're both breathing heavy. Dream rests his forehead against George's, laughs when he underestimates how hard he drops it against George. His eyes are shut while he catches his breath, closes his mouth so he's only breathing through his nose.

George is still clinging to him, an act that does not help calm down Dream's blood pressure. He's long since removed his hand from Dream's waist, opting to have both hands on Dream's neck and face. 

One hand is brushing stray hairs from his face while the other continues to rub soft patterns on to the skin of his jaw. 

He's taken off guard when he feels George remove himself from their current position to kiss the corner of his mouth. Dream goes to turn into it, gets a few quick kisses in return, before George is making his way down the side of Dream's face. 

He kisses softly along his jaw, under it, behind his ear. Leaves wet kisses down his neck, sucks softly on a spot that makes Dream sigh the most, kisses softly back the way he came. 

_”Shit."_ Dream’s voice is gravelly with misuse, doesn't think he's spoken a word since that first kiss. 

_"George."_ It sounds like a sigh.

He feels George hum in question against the kisses he's leaving behind. 

"Let's slow down, it's - " he clears his throat, "It's _a lot."_

George stops almost immediately, but not without leaving one last kiss behind.

The kiss is reminiscent of their first, soft and unassuming, he likes the way George pushes against him and how he chases it a moment after they pull away. It somehow stirs his heart even more so than any other kiss they've shared. 

George rests his head against Dream's shoulder after they pull apart, Dream's hyper aware of the way George's own shoulders lift with each heavy inhale he takes. 

He wraps his arms around George's own shoulders and rests his mouth against the hair at the top of George’s head in a faux kiss. 

"We should move to bed?" He tilts his head to look down at George, it's a whispered suggestion.

George chuckles, Dream's heart swells with the sound and the motion of George’s shoulders shaking.

"That’s fast, thought you wanted to slow down." He's teasing, knowing that however doesn't stop the flush on his cheeks burning darker. 

"You know what I mean. You've had me up against this door for who knows how long." 

Dream hears George mumble 'that's true', then watches as he detangles himself from Dream only to grab one of Dream's hands and pull him towards his own bed. 

George collapses unceremoniously against his mattress and is quick to tug Dream down with him too.

Dream tries (mostly fails) to keep his weight off of George as he's pulled down hastily on top of the other. He hears George let out a winded groan when one of Dream’s elbows clips the lower end of his stomach.

He apologises profusely only for George to start giggling as soon as air has once again been reunited with his lungs. All Dream can do is stare in wonder while George calms down. 

Dream's never done this before. Cuddle with George that is. Sure they've rested on the same couch before or worked together while sitting in the same bed. But they've never been this intimate (not for the lack of wanting.) 

So Dream is a little nervous, and rightfully so. And yeah George's tongue may have just been inside his mouth (which okay, _wow_ , yep that happened) but he's always held these softer moments to a higher standard. He's a sap, sue him.

Dream can feel George watching him as he readjusts the way he’s laying. He ends up mostly on his side, facing George. 

Not even a second after he stops squirming, George wriggles closer and rests his head on Dream’s shoulder. 

Dream hesitates briefly before loosely hanging an arm across George’s waist, playing with the fabric of George’s hoodie.

For a moment nothing can be heard but their soft breaths. Dream thinks about how not even 3 hours ago, his heart was hollowing itself out at the thought of George on a date with someone else. 

There’s a ghost of an ache in his chest that follows that thought but it disappears almost immediately when George lifts a hand to his chest. Almost like he subconsciously knew the heartache that resided there and wanted to soothe it. 

The silence is broken when George decides to be a menace.

“You like me.” It’s not a question, Dream hums a confirmation anyway. 

“That’s kind of embarrassing.” He’s teasing again, Dream decides to give him a taste of his own medicine.

“I’m not the one who couldn’t stop thinking about me while on a date with someone else, those are your words.” George hides his face further in the crook of Dream’s neck, laughs quietly.

“You saying you wouldn’t think about me while on a date with someone else?” George’s voice is slightly muffled but it’s still easy to hear his voice pitch low in that flirty tone that often took Dream off guard whenever it was directed at him.

“ _Well,_ I didn’t say that.” George breathes a laugh against Dream’s neck, it makes goosebumps rise on Dream’s skin.

“Besides, I never wanted to date other people so, your argument is invalid.” 

A pause, then,

“But you want to date _me_?” George’s voice is uncharacteristically small.

Dream’s heart picks up, it finally _really_ hits him. This is happening. _This is actually happening._

George _likes_ him. He _kissed_ him. 

_He wants to be together._

He pinches and pulls at the fabric around George’s waist while letting it sink in. 

“Yeah, I do.” 

He lays his palm flat against the small of George’s back, pulls him in closer, tangles their legs together. Tilts his face down to kiss George’s cheek, the corner of his mouth, eventually gets him into a proper kiss. 

When they pull away, the tips of George’s fingers that rest on the side of Dream’s jaw come into focus, a fuzzy static slowly letting him know that George is touching him. He wonders if he’ll ever get used to the way his skin tingles at every small touch George is willing to give. 

“Is that okay?” Dream whispers it between them, not wanting to break the comfortable quiet they’ve settled into.

He watches George’s lidded eyes flick between each of Dream’s own. Follows the action of George wetting his bottom lip. Tells his heart to calm down.

“It’s more than okay.” George is holding back a smile, eyes shining, glued to Dream’s own. 

_He looks so in love._

Dream’s heart swells, aches with it. Rattles in its cage at the prospect of sharing the same feelings with someone else. 

It hurts, but it’s worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from ‘Flawless’ by The Neighbourhood. 
> 
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